Not

It's not the energy reeling
 Nor the lines in your face
 Nor the clouds on the ceiling
 Nor the clouds in space
 It's not the phone on the table
 Nor the bed in the earth
 Nor the bed in the stable
 Nor your stable words
 It's not the formless being
 Nor the cry in the air
 Nor the boy I'm seeing
 With her long black hair
 It's not the open weaving
 Nor the furnace glow
 Nor the blood of you bleeding
 As you try to let go
 It's not the room
 Not beginning
 Not the crowd
 Not winning
 Not the planet
 Not spinning
 Not a rouse
 Not heat
 Not the fire lapping up the creek
 Not food
 Not to eat
 Not the meat of your thigh
 Nor your spine tattoo
 Nor your shimmery eye
 Nor the wet of the dew
 It's not the warm illusion
 Nor the crack in the plate
 Nor the breath of confusion
 Nor the starkness of slate
 It's not the room
 Not beginning
 Not the crowd
 Not winning
 Not the planet
 Not spinning
 Not a rouse
 Not heat
 Not the fire lapping up the creek
 Not food
 Not to eat
 Not what you really wanted
 Nor the mess in your purse
 Nor the bed that is haunted
 With a blanket of thirst
 It's not the hunger revealing
 Nor the ricochet in the cave
 Nor the hand that is healing
 Nor the nameless grave
 It's not the room
 Not beginning
 Not the crowd
 Not winning
 Not the planet
 Not spinning
 Not a rouse
 Not heat
 Not the fire lapping up the creek
 Not food
 Not to eat
 Not to die
 Not dying
 Not to laugh
 Not lying
 Not the vacant wilderness vying
 Not the room
 Not beginning
 Not the crowd
 Not winning
 Not the planet
 Not spinning